Long Nazm Poems
Long Nazm Poems. Below are the most popular long Nazm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nazm poems by poem length and keyword.
Your Warmth...
I was down
And you come in
You give me your warmth
Your love, your passion
You made me stand up
You made me return to life
Your warmth was more than
An experience
It was a feel to connect with
Something heavenly,
I feel absolutely awesome
Your warmth made me go happy
I am enjoying every part of life
Every breathe is now warmer and soft
I forgot why i was down
Or Did I?
I was down for all that time,
I was shivering with the hands of no pen
One hand had pen other had pain
I was just all by myself cold and bold
Where was your warmth,
When I was shattered on the floor
Nothing to grab all to loose
Where was your warmth
When i needed my breath to stay
Where was your warmth
When i was breaking my dreams
Where was it when
I was laughing at myself for you
Where was your warmth
When i was me for you before you...
When i was me....
An instant Hindi Song with its English Version for Poetry Soup friends.
Hindi Lines in Roman English
"yoon to roj, baadal
bahut se aate hain
kabhee ud kar ye
kabhee yu heen chale jaate hain
kabhee barasate hain
saghan megh ban, kar ye
kabhee rang aur khusaboo se,
bikhar jaate hain.
Simate hote hain, inamen
teree bheenee see khusaboo ke
suhaane jhonke bhee
jo havaon ko bhee,
is fiza kee
mahaka jaate hain
par aate hain jab bhee
ye suhaane baadal
meree aankhon ko
nam karake jaate hain."
Song Lines in English
Every day, these clouds come and
They come in abundance,
Sometimes, they come flying and
they just go away,
Sometimes these clouds come
to shower their heavy rains,
But sometimes they spread only
Their fragrance and colours.
These clouds also contains
The gushes of your sweet pleasing fragrance,
Which diffuse the entire atmosphere
By the beauty of that mild aroma,
Which hangs everywhere.
Whenever
These beautiful clouds come
They fill my eyes
With some tears also.
Ravindra K Kapoor
14th Oct. 2019
This Instant song was written on 12th Oct, 2019 inspired by a colorful cloud photo I saw in face book.
face book URL-
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=2627095467341085&set=a.114474218603235&type=3&theater
Ignored wounds
do not bleed at once,
but when touched for cure
they ache longer than they should,
reminding us how silence gathers dust
inside the body.
It is not that love is feared,
only that sometimes
its arrival feels unnecessary
like an extra flame
in a room already warm.
Still, a newborn’s breath
teaches another language of affection,
a fragile trust resting
in the hollow of two palms.
Love moves gently,
care bends like grass in wind,
affection lingers in corners
where no one thought to look.
And the hands--
they rise as sky,
they fold as umbrella,
they open as shelter.
One gesture,
a thousand meanings,
all carrying us
a little further away from hurt.
Thy mouth dripping with drool.
North blisses and quick-witted doth unfool.
Thou shalt seclude from middling teenth.
Plummeted into a hornet tool.
Wailed as eerie as a panicked fetus.
Didst thou stay fed in the crumbs of mool?
Times beest tough about shimmering graves.
Grumbled, tucked, hadst a mischievous lol.
Thy lure hath evil jagged, full of witch writhes.
Thou began to shake, shrieking by the bleeding pool.
Squirm bosom disheveled and screeched with fear.
Whispered oddly and burst the sweet aroma of bool.
Unison of hoof drank fluffy white icing scream.
Scraggly faith and toothed heart not cool.
Haunted and rhyming a couplet kills.
Sirrah and the mistress prayed to the zirrahed hazrat tool.
Definitely the place to devour corruption corrupt city officials so valid and vile orchestrated by a fatal attraction who slept with my spouse wearing a rubber badge from a strip club in Tampa bay shooting into my home to attack my livelihood to extort my American poetry my blessings are I arrived in spring field Illinois 1969 from Joseph medill elementary school of journalism Chicago Illinois where I sat singing civil rights hymns at Abraham Lincoln home sadly my stalker from Tampa decided to end my life over my identity obsessed with my growing up in Chicago meeting cicely Tyson this imposter tried to murder me she actually stooped to an all time low to take down corrupt city officials with her I feel sad this person that obsessed with my American poetry I’m not a scholar I’m just a write a quote from Gwendolyn Brooks I think it is sad to have stalkers obsessed with your life enough attempt to murder you god bless America god bless American writers and poets stalkers are out there preying on your work I pray I could be a living example of this horrid extortion if not living in death I pray I die for this sheer terror on American soil Ciro Gargano was obsessed with me he hired jay Townsend Johnson Henry to become me after death and cover several arson murders the reason the FBI warned me telling me my life was in danger this resulted in my wearing wires pregnant buying weapons and drugs from Ciro garganos corrupt dealers my life was threatened and this stalker plotted my death I reached out to the federal bureau of investigation Chicago but I believe my being emotionally traumatized left me alone I pray the Supreme Court justice get to the bottom of government scum hiding behind Jamaican isis drug dealers in Tampa bay you’re going to have to kill me dear I am Chicago I am America I'm unafraid of stalkers domestic terrorists comprised dat abuse of power intimidation bullying identity fraud in America God bless America
Kya keemat hai khushi ki, kabhi socha hai tumne?
Ek muskurahat ke peeche kitni tooti hui ummeedein hoti hain.
Ek pal ki roshni ke liye,
Kayi andheron se guzarna padta hai.
Khushi milti hai...
Magar muft nahi.
Kabhi apni khamoshi bechni padti hai,
Kabhi kisi apne ki yaad mein raat bhar ro kar
Subah ek jhooti hasi pehnni padti hai.
Zindagi ke bazaar mein,
Jahaan har jazba bikta hai,
Wahan khushi bhi ek sauda hai
Jis mein dil ka sukoon reh jaata hai rehnuma ke bagair.
Log kehte hain —
"Khush raho, khud pe fakhr karo!"
Par kaise bataun,
Main har din thoda thoda bikta hoon
Apno ki khushi ke liye...
Aur apni khushi kho deta hoon.
Aankhon mein chamak ho ya dil mein toofan,
Dono ka hissab nahi hota.
Khushi ka hisaab koi nahi rakhta,
Bas dard ginna aasan hota hai.
Toh poochta hoon tumse —
Kya hai khushi ki keemat?
Ek wafadar dost?
Ek sachha pyaar?
Ya sirf ek lamha jahan tum
Apne hone ka matlab mehsoos karo?
Main toh ab bhi talaash mein hoon...
Na kisi dukaan mein mili,
Na kisi dua mein...
Par har aansu ke peeche
Ek chhoti si umeed chhupi rehti hai—
Ke shaayad kal... khushi sasti mil jaaye.
Mehfil mein Yaari aur Dosti ki Kammi nahin Hogi
Mehfil mein Yaari aur Dosti ki kammi nahin hogi
Aashiq aur Deewane bhi kahi milein Honge
Par Hum Jaisi Mohabbat karne walein
Siri teri Khushi Ke liyein Alvida Karne walein
Kabhi hi milein honge
Mehfil mein Yaari aur Dosti ki Kammi nahin Hogi
Mehfil mein Yaari aur Dosti ki kammi nahin hogi
Aashiq aur Deewane bhi kahi milein Honge
Par tujse mohabbat jo kar li hain maine ..
Uski saaza tho sirf nahin ho sakthi ...
Ab humse koi tootein dil ka hisaab na lena ...
Sirf is tootein dil ki ek dua sun lena
Hummein kabhi tho yaad kar lena …. kabhi humari gali aa Lena
Har haal mein hum behaal rahe
Gham-e-jaan se har dam ndhaal rahe
Tumhari chahat ki rahguzar mein
Kabhi khaak, kabhi paimaal rahe
Na khwab bane, na taabeer mili
Bas azaab hi azaab ke hamaal rahe
Dhoop sehte guzargayi sadiyaan
Shab-e-hijr ke hi sawaal rahe
Mohabbat ke saahil bhi door the
Aur dil ke toofaan be-zawaal rahe
Shajar-e-umeed ka saaya na mila
Hum faseel-e-gham ke kamaal rahe
Jo charaagh jalaye the aarzu ke
Wahi aandhiyon mein bemisaal rahe
Rah-e-wafa mein the zakhm beshumaar
Phir bhi hanste rahe, lajawab rahe
Humne socha tha dil ka dard sunayein
Magar lab pe qufl, aur sawaal rahe
Har shaam ne tanhai ka zehar diya
Har raat ke geet bhi malaal rahe
Your severe terrorists threats ring out like bombs like I’m bin laden when actually you used your corrupt badge to try and extort my American poetry for my killers thee Gargano crime family obsession with my livelihood because they blew up my skull with a car bomb because Peter adored my American poetry terrorist threats because my African American grandfather was hired to protect the cardinals future pope’s catholics hiding from Hitler at Saint Sebastian church your bullying shoot to kill U66 shoot to kill represents a shoot to kill on my life to be killed because I refuse to allow gargano to extort my American poetry U66 shoot to kill civil rights activist leaders and their children no I will never ever forgive American domestic terrorist you are fake news fraud bullies terrorizing me for not allowing an imposter to extort my American poetry kill me now I’m American I am American back off Gargano crime family of corruption you are dangerous violent scum shoot me for my own poetry well I’m Medger Evers go ahead shoot I’m Mr Little shoot I’m Martin Luther King shoot me many have died for less and I have been suicidal not sure if I could go to heaven but I challenge you to shoot me Ciro Gargano Peter Gargano and your entire clan shoot me over my American poetry invest my traumatic brain injury claim go ahead shoot to kill me 1966 shoot all civil rights advocates and their families what a perfect death good idea I’m in I’m unafraid shoot to kill me you missed 8-14-2003 Rasta Andrew died coming to end my life over my American poetry so now you’re back shoot I’m here do it
God bless America
Supreme Court Justice
Civil rights advocates
Organized Crime law
It was a crisp day October 27th 1942
that's when my pop set out for WW11
right after my grandmother Nona
gave birth to my dad orders arrived
his job assignment was to protect the
priest arch bishops and future Pope's
being captured and killed for their
religious belief safety guarded in
Saint Sebastian church in Rome
the actual sight where Saint Sebastian
was arrowed to death I adore my military
family my husband saved Pow's during Vietnam
two uncles served and now my granddaughter
the history of thee armed forces within my
family is quite a treasure my pop protected
Pope Benedict and stood side by side
Pope Saint John XX111 1944 during
the Victory after liberating Italy he would
often shed tears about the mafia in America
with Al Capone how they actually portrayed
all Italians as criminals left a sore spot for my
own great grandmother born Mason Vicentino
all of pop's letter from war read somewhere
in Italy Apo New York my Pop died at 97 years
old clutching this photo of Arch bishop Pope
Saint John XX111 he made me swore on his
death bed to protect it from the mafia hoodlums
so it would stay in the hands of the Vatican
sadly Mafia hoods broke into my home trying
to retrieve the photo without success I'd copied
it several times sharing with the Knights of Columbus
the Abby of Monks the Franciscan sisters Arch Bishop
most Reverend Cardinal Francis George of Chicago
of course storing the original for safe keeping
and Honor for the sake of his sorrowful passion
over Saint Peters Square Di Vatican in Rome
my Roman heritage Somewhere in Rome I'm home